Send you roses when they think you need to smile
by Misunderstood Beauty
Summary: AU Harry, Ruth and Juliet are all 16. They all go to the same school. They've all just been made prefects. Use your imagination.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Please, just imagine that Ruth, Harry and Juliet are all 15/16 (they're going into Year 11). I know that it doesn't really fit but just work with me here. Very AU. I know this isn't very good at all but I promise it'll get better._**

**_Disclaimer: Need I say that Harry, Ruth and Juliet not mine?_**

_**-**_

_Dear Miss Evershed,_

_We are delighted to offer you a full scholarship for the forth-coming year at St. Mary's Mixed Boarding School. _

_We are also equally pleased to inform you that you have been given the responsibilities of prefect alongside Harry Pearce and Juliet Shaw from your house. You will be required to report to your head of year (Mrs Isabella Reed) when the new term begins on the 1st September at 9am sharp._

_Once again, congratulations on your excellent finals results. We are privileged to have such a talented student amongst us._

_Yours Sincerely_

_Mrs Rebecca Philips Head of Milton House St. Mary's Mixed Boarding School_

Ruth let out a long and low groan. Pleased as she was at being appointed prefect she was less than enticed by the prospect of having to work alongside Juliet for the following year.

_Harry, though, that's a completely different ball game_, she thought as she attached the shiny badge with a large gold 'P' on to her jumper, _he might just make it bearable_.

She began to set about packing her bag:

_- 2 Jumpers_

_- 14 shirts_

_- Tie_

_- 3 Skirts_

_- 15 pairs of socks_

_- 2 pairs of shoes_

_- 2 other skirts_

_- 5 tops_

_- 5 bras_

_- 14 pairs of knickers_

_- Harrybear **(A/N; yes, she has a Harrybear)**_

_- Toothbrush_

_- Hair brush_

She ticked things off her list as she went. This year she would have access to the Prefect's bathroom and would sleep in the Prefects dorm. _With Juliet._ Ruth let out another groan.

-

"Honey, there's a letter for you." Eleanor Shaw poked her head around her daughter's door to find her desperately trying to tame her ever-wild mane of dark hair.

"Thank you Mum." Juliet turned on her heel, abandoning the hairbrush on the dressing table and took the envelope out of her mother's hand, "What does Mrs Philip's want now?" She asked, instantly recognising the hand-writing on the envelope.

Two minutes later she strode into the kitchen and set about getting herself a drink, "I've been made a prefect, with Harry. And Ruth Evershed." She muttered darkly to her mother. "And I've been given a scholarship – 70 or something."

"Oh darling, that's fantastic!"

Juliet gave her mother a look full to the brim of disdain before stalking out of the room with her fingers clasped around a glass of Coke. "Yes," She said, sarcastically, "I can hardly wait that one long week until the 1st September."

-

"Harry! Look! Look at this!" Ben brandished a letter under Harry's nose whilst jumping up and down with delight. "Look! Harry – you've been made a prefect!"

Fiona Pearce appeared behind Ben, "Ben! Leave Harry alone, you'll break his nose!" She looked up at her oldest child, "I'm very proud of you." She looked back down at Ben, "Ben, give your brother his badge."

The 13 year-old placed the small red crest with a bold 'P' in the middle in Harry's palm. "Oh yeah, it says that you've got to go and see Mrs Reed soon as we get there."

Harry raised his eyebrows as he surveyed the badge, _Prefect, who're they kidding?_ He bounced down onto the bed; the springs beneath him gave a dull groan as he settled his weight back across the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

He heard a noise at the door, "So," it was Ben, "you going to ask Juliet out this year or what?"

-

_**I know this is possibly one of the worst fic I've ever written but please review, even just to say that you hated it. More will come soon.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Right, this chapter is entirely Juliet's POV, rather than the first one which was all three. I'm hoping that this is substantially better than Chapter 1. It also seems to be much closer to my normal style (reflective, present tense and short(ish) sentences) than the last chapter. Basically, the less sad about the last chapter the better._**

-

She's early. Not _early_ early. But still early enough to be early.

Of course, she arrives after Ruth. But everyone does.

Her steps are measured as she mounts to stairs leading to her new room. Her heels click lightly against the un-even stone floor (it's supposed to have been there since 1543, like she believes _that_).

-

It would be wrong to say that the school didn't want their prefects to be pampered. The en-suite is well stocked with fluffy towels (the same deep red as her badge) and the bath isn't exactly small. The room itself has two queen size beds (again clothed in the dark scarlet). She was vaguely impressed. It was definitely a step up from the accommodation the school's provided her with for the last 4 years.

She's not entirely sure whether to feel intimidated or at home.

-

"Juliet, how are you?" Mrs Philips greets her as she leaves her room to go down to Mrs Reed.

"I'm great thanks; did you have a nice summer?" She's learnt by now that it's worthless trying to shake off her head of house with the usual excuses.

"Oh yes, and congratulations." The older woman gestures towards her badge. "I expected nothing less of you three."

"Thank you Miss. I need to go and see Miss Reed now."

-

Juliet's less than surprised to find Ruth already waiting outside the Head of Year's office. She makes a stab of civility with a _hello, how're you?_

All she's given in response is a nasty look (Juliet's speciality) and _I'm fine_.

Harry joins them 5 minutes later. She can talk to him. He's credible, intelligent, and likes ketchup on (rather than next to) his chips, _it's a boy thing_ he assures her.

"Sure?" She says lightly, smiling shyly. Her cheeks are flushed and it's one of those moments when he looks at her and the world just stops.

He chuckles. "I'm sure."

There's an under-current of electricity (high voltage) and she's not entirely sure what to do. She certainly can't just leave it like this.

It makes her wonder.

-

5 minutes of boredom later they leave the room and begin to walk towards the common room together, they talk (and usually end up arguing) about music and books and all that crap.

She likes his voice. The soft commanding treacle smells of a voice newly-broken. It rolls over his tongue with soft northern vowels and she notes the jealousy in the glance Ruth shoots at her as she and Harry continue to make easy conversation (she plans to keep him talking as long as is possible).

They reach the stairs to the dorms all too soon and she turns to say goodnight to him, "There's a rugby game tonight. I'd say you could come and watch it with me but it's not really fair a prefect should break the rules."

He laughs a gentle, deep and piercing laugh and reaches over, his thumbs brushes lightly against her jaw (she thanks god Ruth has already gone upstairs). She looks down into his eyes. Milky coffee meeting cold blue.

"Goodnight, Juliet." Is all he says.

She refuses to believe that he doesn't feel something too.

-

Ruth's in her pyjamas (blue flannel) when she enters the room. "You like Harry, don't you?" she asks as she stares into Juliet's eyes reflected in the mirror.

"What do you mean?" She's faking ignorance, instead occupying herself with a hair brush.

"I think you know what I mean." Her voice isn't smooth and soft like it usually is. It's chilly and piercing. She remains staring straight ahead at her reflection in the mirror.

"I really don't know what you're talking about. We're friends." A hint of annoyance joins the overly-sweet tone of her voice. It's like coffee which some idiot's put too much sugar into.

"No you're not, you argue incessantly. It's clear you like him in that way." A muscle is clenched in Ruth's jaw as she tugs the comb through her hair.

"I really don't know what you're talking about Ruth. You're imagination's running away with you again." She finishes getting undressed and slips on her pyjamas and dressing gown. "There's nothing there. I promise." She plasters a fake smile on her face. She hasn't always been this good at lying.

-

She meets Harry in the common room the next morning. "Coffee? How about Saturday?"

It's nice to have this, the conversation that she's been aching for. He brushes his fingers against her hand.

"Why not?" He says.

_**Please review. Thanks xxx**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Again, Juliet's POV, I quite like writing her so…I think it'll stay from Juliet's viewpoint. Again, this isn't exactly brilliant but at least it's something resembling a chapter. (And I know you all hate me for Harry/Juliet but please, just hang on in there).**_

-

They're sitting in the common room together when he offers her it, "Scotch?"

She stays quiet. "I don't drink," she says finally, tiredly, and leans back against the sofa, "especially not Scotch."

"Too good for you?" He smiles and pours himself a shot. She satisfies herself with a snap at some insignificant year 7's getting too close to them; _don't you have teachers to pull pranks on?_

"You can ask me you know, your 'nonchalance' sucks sometimes." He looks at her, "and it's not like I'm going to ask you."

She hits him on the arm, hard, and "you're an arse, a bloody arse" escapes her lips, followed by "ask me what?"

"You know what." He winks, (she can tell he's had too much to drink), "I know that you know what."

"I think you've had too much to—"

But his mouth meets hers and he tastes of scotch. She knows that this is a really, really _bad_ idea, his mouth is so warm and maybe she'll be able to keep just one secret.

-

They stumble into his room, his hand against her hip. She's still too small. And _ohgod_ is the first thing that goes through her mind.

She doesn't exactly _try_ to stop him.

-

"Where were you last night?" Ruth's question is more of an accusation and Juliet knows that she knows exactly where she was.

"I ended up sleeping in the library; I had a lot of homework to do and Miss Watson seemed to forget I was still there when she locked up." It comes out all too quickly and if there was a chance Ruth didn't know she must do now.

"It's the second day back; you can't have gotten that much homework." Ruth's sitting at the desk, reading a dog-eared copy of _Anna Karenin_.

Juliet walks over to her bed and removes _Dracula_ from it. "Try telling Mr Morris that." She opens the crisp pages and begins to read without her eyes focusing on the page at all (she's remembering last night).

She's good at this lying lark.

-

He's gives her a place. His presence isn't particularly comforting or newsworthy but she still sits there with her head in his lap.

"You should sleep, you look tired," he murmurs, from above her. "We've got time. Lots of the damn thing."

Her lips part, slightly, smoothly. And he shakes his head, his smile there and then gone. "I'll sleep when you do."

"You're being difficult, Ju—" he pauses, yawns, and dusts his fingers against her thigh as he leans forward. He finishes, plucking her book from her hands and tossing it off to the side. "—_liet_. I reckon you're lucky I find it—"

Her lips curl. "Sexy?"

He chuckles and leans back, rubbing his eyes. "Yes, that just about sums it up."

-

"So, remind me." He says, "Why are we here again?"

She looks at him and cocks an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He gestures to the table "Remind me why we're going on a date, in public."

"Because you wouldn't leave me alone and let me get on with my life," she replies simply. She smiles at him, she knows she's right.

"Admit it. You like me." He grins at her and she gives him a look that a lesser man would have run a mile from.

"I wouldn't have shunned the rules and slept with you if I didn't like you." She rolls her eyes at him. She's dying to make a comment about his maturity level. "You're an arse."

"You want to hate me but you can't. That's why you're here."

"Is that why you let me sleep in your room 3 days ago? To prove me wrong?" She takes a sip of her wine, surveying him over her pasta.

"Not entirely." He smiles and finishes his scotch and he ignores her look of disapproval at his choice of beverage. "I like you. It would be nice if you returned the favour."

"You're stubborn—"

He reaches under the table towards her thigh, "Thanks."

She grimaces as he squeezes her knee, "—and irritating—"

He grins as his hand moves higher, "make sure you don't leave out seductive—"

"And quite possibly the least mature man I've ever encountered." She slaps his hand away, "though I'll give you seductive."

"Why thank you Juliet." He leans over towards her, pulling her head towards his, "you can spend tonight in my room as well, Ollie was out the other night, and he'll be out tonight too."

Her lips part and she looks at him, blue eyes wide as oceans. "You know that Ruth noticed my absence, don't you?"

He tenses before chuckling, "What did you say?"

She lets out a low breath before grinning at him, "I told her that I'd gotten locked in the library by Miss Watson." She takes his hand and gives it a light squeeze, "I suppose I could be on 'night patrol' tonight."

He leans in towards her ear, his breath catching in her untamed curls, "Who'd have thought it, Juliet Shaw lying to her teachers, and her roommate. Whatever next?"

She moves back, her nose meeting his, a cheeky smirk on her face, "Christ you're behind the times, I've lied to Ruth since day one, and as for teachers, well, I'm hardly likely to tell a prefect what my silver tongue has done for me over the last five years."

-

**Please review! Ruth/Harry is about 2 chapters away, I promise!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: My Latin is verging on dreadful so please tell me if there are any glaring mistakes. And please review.**

-

December arrives in a mist of tinsel and baubles. His lips are still like a morphine brush against her throat and _I love you Juliet Shaw_ has become her soundtrack.

His mouth is warm, wet, and almost cruel because he knows her and then he doesn't and each of her reactions— she twists, mews, and _aches_ when he's inside of her— become his.

His. Oh bugger.

-

She sits next to Ruth in Latin. With Harry diagonally in front of her. So she sends him a letter;-

_Amor est vitae essentia et amor tussisque non celantur._

_J xxx_

_P.S. Braccae tuae aperiuntur_

He grins back at her and she sees Ruth out of the corner of her eye, "Don't worry, it was written in Latin." She assures the disapproving girl.

"That's not the point!" Ruth's voice is hushed and she's obviously annoyed.

"Audere est facere. I'm presuming you know what that means."

"Of course I do, 'to dare is to do' but to dare doesn't make it right."

Juliet rolls her eyes, "Te audire no possum. Musa sapientum fixa est in aure."

"Oh by the way, Harry's fly has been open all day." Ruth smiles into her book.

A large ink splodge lands in the middle of her page, "You looked! You co—"

"Thought you couldn't hear me due to the banana in your ear."

-

He's like an addiction. A drug. She finds herself going back to him again and again.

She's hardly read a page of her book (Dracula) since they began dating, "Harry, I've read this paragraph 5 times, please can I have just 5 minutes to myself?"

Then he tickles her and she loses her place altogether. "What were you and Ruth arguing about today in Latin?"

She sighs and shakes her head, extracting herself from his grasp, "It was nothing."

-

There's a bit of awkwardness settling in the room (hers) between them, clouding around them as his mouth locks on hers.

Whispers of the television mix with the moans from next door (Ollie's in there). She almost pauses and says that this is dangerous and that Ruth might catch them, but then he growls and causes them to stumble.

The back of her legs hit the bed and she falls, falls, and keeps falling. She doesn't know what she's chasing and why she went to him in the first place, but she'll leave it at that.

She hates him (she loves him really), hates this place (it's still her home), and swears she hears her mother telling her to be careful. But she kisses him and he kisses her and it seems like that's all they do in this life— kiss each until there's nothing left.

She still hates him to the point where she loves him when their tongues entwine, her nail raking against his back. He gasps, moans, and is a little two warm when he presses against her.

-

She doesn't see him for a week after that, schoolwork and her duties taking centre stage. So she goes to ask him if he wanted to go into town on Saturday. But her incentive to do something stumbles forward and sooner than she can step back and apply some sort of rationality, her hands are in his hair and she's kissing him fiercely.

She doesn't think about his response, about the consequences, or about the aftermath— she kisses him because she's missed him and chances are, this'll probably be one of those random opportunities.

But when he starts to respond, his arms sliding around her waist with his tongue slipping into her mouth— she moans, reacts, and loses herself completely the instability of _them_.

"Where have you been?" he breathes, his hands cupping her face. His thumb brushes again her lower lip and this time, he steals a kiss.

She smiles. Or tries to when he leans back. "Sorry. I've had a lot to do."

Her lips sort of burn and she thinks that maybe this is love.

-

Christmas comes all too soon and she's dreading the prospect of speaking to her Mother for the first time in months.

Then he arrives in a shiny silver Audi and she's not sure if it's legal or not, "Do want a ride?"

In the end she agrees and Bing Crosby and David Bowie serenade the two of then when he drives to the park, at her request— unnecessary, but necessary to her. She hates this song, it puts her to sleep.

Then again, Christmas isn't really her thing.

She's drawn to his hands again, the motion of one and then the other. He has one of the wheel, his fingers curled lightly around it and sliding as each turn is made. His other hand props his head up too close to the glass.

He's tired, that much is clear. But it's the first time that she's allowed herself to acknowledge this—

that she cares for him.

"Christmas sucks," she mutters. "You didn't bring—"

At a red light, he turns and reaches into the back. He drops a box in her lap and she raises an eyebrow.

Love hearts.

Her lips quirk. Barely. But it's there.

-


	5. Chapter 5

_Romance is dead, sweetheart_ was her mother's lullaby to her during the holidays and always with a smile. Her mother was that generation, on the edge of reason and always having to be married because it looked good and was safer than heroin.

But Juliet's never thought about marriage and _real_ romance— sex has always made much more sense to her and on the surface works because at the end of the day it's just science. And it can be discarded, discounted, and lost.

"I can hear you thinking."

She looks up, her lashes brushing against her cheeks, as Harry spills into her doorway. He leans against it, quiet, and she shoots back to their fun last night.

Consistency. It's black and white, love and hate, and everything wrapped into one man.

She glances at the clock, "Late for you."

He shrugs lazily, "its Saturday."

She smirks and her fingers curl in her dressing gown. "Right. Who were you with?"

He raises an eyebrow and the smile stays, "I wasn't with anyone." The smile doesn't extend to his voice. "Juliet, I wasn't with anyone."

She shakes her head and snorts, almost smiling at the urgency in his eyes, ignoring her own thoughts and feelings as she plunges on, "Right," she says softly, "In a perfect world."

Juliet thinks, inevitably, her taste in men is going to fluctuate into a slow burn and then dwindle into ashes. It's not that she can't, won't, or couldn't. It's just—

—she's going to end up like her mother.

And somehow, always, at the end of each conversation, she's stuck with the fact that maybe she can't get out of falling for the wrong one.

-

He lies about it. _You're pathetic._ And there's no ending, as if the spark they shared for 3 months simply disappeared.

It doesn't seem right, to fall to a nameless, silent, and final end. And it confuses her, in light of everything— _god_, she thinks. She was right there.

She starts to ache and _hates_ the ache, what he left her with. She doesn't understand what to do with this, what she _can_ do.

He left her with something. It's an end.

-

She sits in her chair under the window with him, "It's over, you and Ruth…" There's a tremor in her voice and her unblinking gaze is focused on the fire.

He shakes her head, "Ruth didn't want to do it this way." She flinches away from his out-stretched hand, "I'm sorry Juliet. I really am."

She's wordless for now, keeping her stare to corners, silencing her thoughts.

There's nothing else.

-

She goes to the stairs because she hates her room and, if anything, that was their space. Their space.

She sits in a corner, drawing her legs up and tucking them to her chest. She feels smaller, heavier, and there's a headache in the future for her, a sleepless night. She doesn't know exactly where it ended. Maybe, that's what he wanted.

Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.


End file.
